


Fading Out

by PenguinofProse



Series: Soulmate Sunday [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: CPR scene, Canonverse with soulmates, F/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate Sunday, Soulmates, but with soulmates, did I mention soulmates?, soulmates with colours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 09:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30036333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: Written for 100 fics for BLM. When your soulmate dies, you stop seeing in colour. After Praimfaya hits Bellamy can still see the colours so he presumes Clarke was never his soulmate. When he lands and realises she's alive, there's too much going on for him to hang around and figure out whether the universe thinks they're fated to be together. Highlights from seasons 4-6.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Soulmate Sunday [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209566
Comments: 24
Kudos: 122
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	Fading Out

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to the awesome prompter who prompted this! Hope you enjoy it. Thanks as well to Zou for betaing and being such an awesome cheerleader. Happy reading!
> 
> Please note that Echo has a prominent (non-romantic) role in this so please go read something else if you're not a fan and don't bother leaving negative comments about her if you don't like her. Thank you kindly!

**Support great causes and prompt fics at<https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/>**

Bellamy wants a soulmate when he is young.

He thinks it sounds perfect. Romantic. Mystical. Something worthy of the myths and legends he loves to read.

Sure, having a soulmate is not what it used to be. There are no blinding flashes of light, no words imprinted on skin. Such things have died out since the days of old. They say that the only sign you have found your soulmate, these days, is that you will stop seeing colour when they die. That it’s a curse, rather than a blessing, to watch your world fade out to grey as you lose the one you love.

Bellamy prefers to take a brighter view of things - or perhaps a more naively optimistic view. He thinks he’ll  _ know _ when he has found his soulmate. That there will be a sense of completeness, of finding his other half, a piece of himself that he didn’t even know was missing. That the colours around him will shine brighter if only because he will be happy in his heart.

Sometimes, when he lies awake at night with his head drowning in worry he thinks there is even more to it than that. He wants a soulmate, because a soulmate might be his route out of here. A soulmate might take him away from all this - the mother and the sister and the anxiety. He knows he isn’t  _ supposed _ to want that, because his sister is his responsibility.

But all the same, he wants.

He  _ wants _ .

…….

When he is older, Bellamy realises his mistake.

Specifically, when he is twenty-three years, seven months and six days old. When it’s the worst day of his life, the death wave snapping at his heels as he flees to the sky.

As he flees to the sky without Clarke.

That’s the moment it hits him that having a soulmate is the worst possible thing. Because now, while he sits almost safe inside this rocket, he will have to watch the colours die as Clarke burns to death far below. He’s convinced of it, certain that she is his soulmate even if they never talked about it. He just  _ knows _ .

He wonders what it will be like. Will the blue of the control panel and the red of his suit seep slowly from his world? Or will the colours blink out, all at once, in the exact moment Clark breathes her last?

Is it happening already? Is everything a little mistier than he remembers, or is that just the tears clouding his eyes?

“Does anyone know how it works?” He asks faintly, a waste of precious oxygen - but he needs to know, needs to prepare himself. “When the colours…  _ go _ ? Do they fade out slowly or disappear in a flash?”

Harper shakes her head, openly weeping. Monty gives him a sad, apologetic smile. Bellamy nods, resigned, as his vision grows ever more blurred.

“It’s a fade, but a  _ fast _ fade.” Echo says quietly, tone perfectly level. “You’ll know when it happens.”

Just for a moment, Bellamy is distracted from his grief. He’s distracted by realising that must mean it has happened to her, by wondering what else he doesn’t know about his new teammate in the sport of survival.

Clarke would be happy about that, he thinks. She’d be happy to see him and Echo finding common ground, after she was the one who insisted they save the spy’s life.

But then the truth of Echo’s words hits him. A fast fade.  _ You’ll know when it happens _ .

He’d best look down at the green and blue and burning orange of the planet below while he still has the chance.

…….

The colours are still with him by the time they arrive on the ring. But he realises, seeing as the doors only just opened, that Clarke must still be alive, at least for now.

It’s horrific. Realising that is the worst thing. She’s been alive for the last fifteen minutes or so, clinging on down there, doing what it takes to save the rest of them. He wishes there were some way to get in touch with her, to send one last frantic message so she knows as she slips away how precious and loved she is.

He hates to think of her alone and dying slowly.

He must, though. He is forced to recognise the truth of that. Because he still has the colours an hour later, by the time they have tended to the oxygen and to Monty’s hands and are starting to settle into their new home.

He still has the colours that evening, when they eat a meal and then head to their beds.

It’s  _ awful _ . She’s lasted an extra four hours now, and he hates to think what state she must be in at this point. She must have escaped the flames themselves and found herself dying more slowly of radiation sickness in the lab, instead. Dying alone and fully aware of the fact he left her behind.

Some soulmate he is.

He tries to make it right in what little ways he can. He prays for her a lot. He’s never been a particularly religious guy, but he says the traveller’s blessing a hundred or more times. And he stays awake as long as he can, desperate to be awake and with her in spirit at least at the time his world fades to grey.

He’s tired, though. It’s been a long couple of days - or a long few months.

At last, the darkness claims him.

…….

Bellamy wakes up, sad and still tired. He did not sleep long or well. He blinks his eyes open, and his first thought is that it has happened. That Clarke’s dead. That he’s seeing in greyscale, as he looks around his gloomy bedroom.

Then he realises that’s not quite true. It is dull in here, yes. But even in the low light, his bedding looks more dark blue than black. The light coming under the door is slightly yellow. He holds his hand out in front of his face, picks out that his skin is still the familiar brown.

What the hell has happened?

She can’t still be alive this morning.  _ Surely _ she can’t be. She must be dead by now.

What if she isn’t? What if she’s still clinging on in excruciating pain, feeling utterly betrayed by the fact he left her?

What if it’s worse? What if she was never his soulmate at all?

…….

Every morning he wakes up and his bedding is still blue. The hall light is still yellow, his skin is still brown.

On the seventh morning, he is no longer surprised. That’s the worst feeling of all, like he’s given up. Given up on what? On mourning her properly, on saying goodbye when the time comes?

No. It’s worse than that. He’s given up on  _ her _ , given up on their connection or relationship or whatever he thought it was. He’s accepted that she’s dead, but that she was never his soulmate. That’s why he can still see the colours.

He needs to tell someone. He doesn’t like to make a big deal out of his feelings, as a general rule. He likes to bottle them up inside until they burst out and Clarke gives him a hug, actually. But he can’t very well do that now, can he? And something this big needs acknowledging, he thinks.

So it is that he mentions it over the breakfast table, carefully casual. As if  _ anyone _ could possibly feel casual in the face of losing their soulmate - either to death or to disappointment.

“I guess by now we know she wasn’t my soulmate.” He says, as he unwraps his ration bar. He knows he doesn’t need to explain himself further than that.

Monty nods sadly. Harper reaches out to pat him on the arm.

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” He forces himself to continue. “I should have realised she loved Lexa more. We were just friends, weren’t we? That’s fine. I get it.”

To his surprise, Harper bristles, her hand on his arm tightening into a firm grasp. “No, Bellamy. I know you’re hurting but don’t ever doubt how much she cared about you. Soulmate or not, you were really important to her.”

He nods, slightly mollified. He finds himself wondering, just for a fleeting moment, whether Clarke stopped seeing colours when Lexa died.

No. He’d have noticed, all that time they spent working together these last few months and talking about red lines and green lights as they prepared for Praimfaya.

Maybe she simply didn’t have a soulmate? That would be the kindest way to look at it, perhaps.

He tries to collect himself, smiles tightly. “Thanks, Harper. I hope you’re right. I just - I guess it’s taking me some time to adjust.” He swallows, feels tears rising in his throat. “I just really want a soulmate.”

He gulps. He didn’t mean to confess that. It’s a silly thing to feel, right? But he has always wanted one, and fears he always will. That’s a troubling thought - did he love Clarke, or did he love the  _ idea _ of Clarke?

Hah. What a ridiculous question. He was in love with her before he even  _ liked _ her, he’s pretty sure.

There’s a sticky silence. Harper is patting his arm, and Bellamy supposes that’s the closest to a Clarke hug he will get in the foreseeable future. Raven looks uncomfortable. Monty looks sad.

Then Echo speaks up.

“You don’t want a soulmate. Trust me, you don’t. More pain than it’s worth.”

He frowns. He nods, because that seems like a sympathetic sort of thing to do.

But in his heart, he still  _ wants _ .

…….

He never does stop seeing the colours. With each day that passes, he grows increasingly convinced that Clarke was simply not the person for him - or maybe that she could have been  _ a _ person for him, if the circumstances allowed, but that the universe was not set on placing them together.

Although he can still see the colours here and now, it’s like his memories are in greyscale, somehow - or at least his memories of Earth and of Clarke. Like the realisation she must not be his soulmate has drained some of the vibrancy from his memories of her. He cannot quite visualise the way her eyes would light up and shine blue, nor the red flush that would rise in her cheeks when they disagreed about something.

For the most part, he manages. He tries to carry on, to respect Clarke’s sacrifice by acting with his head and keeping steady for their people.

But once in a while, he has a moment of weakness.

“Do you think there’s any chance she survived?” He asks Raven, this morning, as they wash the breakfast dishes. They’ve been here six months, now, and yet he still knows he does not need to explain his question.

Clarke is simply going to be on his mind for the rest of his life, he suspects, and maybe that’s OK.

Raven frowns at him sadly, shaking her head. “No. I’m sorry, but you know there’s no way she could have made it. She was already sick from the radiation when she gave her suit away. And we know she was still on the tower when the death wave was right on her from the way she only just got the door open in time for us.”

He nods. He knows all those things, of course. He has recited much the same sequence of events to himself whilst lying awake in bed almost every night since they arrived here. But it hits harder, somehow, when he hears someone else say the words.

“So she’s dead.” He forces himself to say it. He likes to think it will get easier, one day.

“She’s dead.” Raven confirms quietly.

She’s dead. So she was never his soulmate. So he ought to get on with his life, move on, live and laugh and love again.

He never quite manages that, somehow.

…….

Years pass, and he never does  _ move on _ , as such. He wonders a time or two whether there might be some merit in hooking up with Echo. That might be a good distraction - he knows he found sex to be a good distraction, back when he first landed on Earth. And he knows that with Echo it could never be anything more than a distraction - she has evidently lost her soulmate, and she knows full well that he lost the woman he hoped was his soulmate, too.

Somehow, it never quite happens. He never gets round to it. Or perhaps there’s some part of him that just stupidly can’t stop hoping for Clarke, even though he knows she’s dead and gone and was never his to lose.

Whenever he tries to make a move on Echo - whenever they should probably be kissing, he thinks wryly - it seems that he ends up talking to her instead.

Tonight is a good example. They’ve been training together. And finally, three years in, for the first time he manages to get her to tap out.

“Not bad.” She says, with a nod and a half-smile.

“Thanks.” He grins a little, slumps into a seat by the window and offers her a drink of water.

She takes it, giving him a considering sort of look.

“What is it?” He prompts.

She shakes her head, gaze slipping away. “I was just thinking - I wish she could be here to see this. I know I barely knew her. But I think she’d like to know we’re friends these days.”

He swallows.  _ Her _ . He wonders how long Clarke will be dead before they learn how to say her name once again.

“Yeah. She’d love it. I remember her telling me on that last day that bringing you along was a good idea. Turns out she was right.” He says, as light as he can. It’s still difficult for him to remember that conversation - or at least, to remember that he didn’t end it by kissing her as he really should have done.

He doesn’t fool Echo.

“You know not everyone has soulmates.” She reminds him pointedly. “It’s, what, maybe a third of people? So you can still remember her as the only person for you without breaking the rules or something.”

“What do you mean?” He asks. No one has said anything like that to him before now. There’s something almost  _ challenging _ about it, when up until today everyone has been focused on softness and sympathy.

“I mean she was still  _ your person _ . It’s obvious. Just as you were hers. You don’t need some supernatural connection to make that real.” She takes a deep breath, sits at his side. “I just think - sometimes you act like you didn’t have a  _ right _ to love her or mourn her just because she wasn’t your soulmate. And that’s a load of crap.”

He snorts. He’s got used to Echo’s plain speaking, in the last three years, but he still finds that she can be almost uncomfortably brutal in her opinions at times.

Clarke used to be a bit like that, too. That’s why they made such a good team running the dropship camp.

He nods firmly. He supposes it’s his turn to speak, but he’s not sure what to say.

To his surprise, Echo continues. She has grown more talkative, as she has become comfortable in the company of her new family.

“I still remember what you said years ago about wanting a soulmate. I think I get it, now I know you better. So I guess I wanted to say - you had one.  _ Have _ one. Her being dead doesn’t change that, and you not having that supernatural stuff doesn’t change it. You have a soulmate, and her name’s Clarke Griffin.”

He smiles slightly. It’s good to hear her name. It’s been a while.

“Thanks, Echo.” He says simply, pulling her in for a chaste and platonic hug.

Maybe that’s why he never does manage to hook up with Echo. Because every time a moment presents itself, they spend that moment talking about Clarke.

…….

He manages a little better after that. There’s something about that conversation before a window that reminds him of another conversation beneath a tree. He’s friends with everyone on the ring of course - even Murphy on his bad days - but he has to admit that he shares a deeper friendship with Echo. She talks about losing her soulmate in turn, sometimes, and it’s good. It’s healthy and refreshing to have someone to talk about the big issues with once again.

It’s nothing like having Clarke back, but it’s better than nothing.

He wishes she was still alive to see this, really. To witness the way his enemy has become his best friend by bonding over shared experiences of love and loss. Echo isn’t his best friend in the way Clarke was his best friend - that much is certain. When he thought of Clarke as his  _ best friend _ , that was really a euphemism for  _ love of his life _ . She was his best friend in as much as he wanted her in his space and his life and his arms every second of every day.

Echo is his best friend in a more conventional sense. They hang out, share interests, support each other. The hugs last two seconds maximum, not five seconds minimum.

By the time the five years draws to an end, he thinks he’s coping, more or less. He still mourns Clarke, but he mourns her in a sort of clean and peaceful way. He loved her, and she’s dead, and that’s all there is to say on the matter. She died saving them, and although he hates himself for it, he knows she would have wanted it that way.

He’s made his peace with it, he thinks.

He’s made his peace with it, but then they find their way down to Earth and find Clarke still alive.

…….

He can’t believe it, when the child runs out of the trees to tell him Clarke knew he would come. It’s just too much - too many unexpected things to throw at him all at once. He’s not had to think on his feet very often, since they went to space, and apparently he cannot remember how to do it.

He looks to Echo. She’ll fix it, right? She’ll step up and say something confident and get the job done.

Sure enough, she’s there. “Bellamy - I’m guessing you want to go get Clarke? I’ll come with you as back up. Monty and Harper and Emori can stay out of sight and set up camp.”

He nods, still wordless. He does want to go get Clarke. He wants it more than he has ever wanted anything else in his life, he’s pretty sure.

Things keep moving quickly - too quickly for him. The child is called Madi, and she’s Clarke’s daughter. They met after Praimfaya, when Madi was alone in this valley. Bellamy cannot quite wrap his head around that - Clarke has a  _ daughter _ now. She’s got a family of her own - just as he has in some ways, he supposes.

They find the Eligius crew, negotiate Clarke’s release. Before he knows it, Bellamy is sitting in the back of a rover driving towards some cave where Clarke and Madi have some rations cached. All around him, people are talking and making plans - plans for tomorrow morning, when they will set out for Polis and open the bunker, and even optimistic plans looking further into the future.

Bellamy is still stuck on  _ Clarke’s alive _ , to be honest. He’s still reeling from shock.

And as the shock starts to fade, he is left dwelling on a different but equally unhelpful thought. Could she be his soulmate after all? If she’s still alive, then the colours never should have faded.

He does still want a soulmate, it seems.

That’s stupid. It’s unhelpful. It won’t be any use to him, as he tries to navigate the politics of the Eligius prisoners, or the opening of the bunker, or even the shift in his relationship with Clarke now that Madi is so clearly her priority.

And yet he’s stuck on it all the same.

…….

It’s not until later in the evening that he gets a chance to catch up with Clarke properly. He’s slightly more in control of his thoughts, now - but not much, because as she said that last day before Praimfaya, he always did have a tendency for his heart to rule his head. She’s sitting alone on the far side of the cave, watching from a few feet away over Madi who is sound asleep.

Echo nudges him and points in Clarke’s direction.

“This seems like a good moment to go speak to her.” She says mildly.

He snorts, looks away. “I don’t know what to say.”

“OK, maybe don’t start with the fact you’re confused or want her for a soulmate. Definitely don’t start with the fact you’re  _ jealous _ of her daughter.”

He bites his lip. He  _ is _ jealous of her daughter, isn’t he? That’s wrong on so many levels he can’t begin to count them. But he’s devastated that he cannot even pretend to be the most important person in her life, any more.

“Come on, Bellamy. She’s  _ Clarke _ . You don’t need me to tell you how to talk to her. Just go over there and say hi.” Echo concludes, pushing rather more firmly at his shoulder.

He sighs. She’s doing that thing again - being firm and a little harsh, even though she’s acting in his best interests. It occurs to him in passing that she and Clarke would make a fearsome team if they ever got together to talk him into something.

Not that it’s ever going to happen, if he and Clarke cannot figure out how to speak to each other like functional human beings once again.

He gets to his feet, crosses the floor of the cave. How hard can this be? He just has to start simple, right? He just has to say it’s good to see her - that’s a good, safe place to begin.

“Hey.” He tries, hovering about a yard away from her, his hands clasped tight at his hips.

She cranes her neck up to look at him, apparently unimpressed. “Hey.”

“Can I join you for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.” Is that warmth? Or is it confusion? He can no longer tell the difference, it seems.

“It’s really good to see you.” He says. Echo suggested that, right?

To his relief, she smiles, genuinely warm. “You, too. I’m so happy you made it home safe.”

He snorts. “I think we had better odds than you. I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“Well - here I am.” She says, rather unnecessary.

Right. Yes. That was a silly comment. He fishes desperately for something to say.

“Madi seems like a sweet kid.” He offers uselessly.

Again, a joyful smile. “Yeah. She’s great. I’m so lucky to have found her.”

“Yeah. I’m really happy you had each other.” He tries.

She nods. “Same to you, I guess. I’m happy you have Echo.”

He gulps, wonders what to say now. “Thanks, I guess. She’s great. I mean - we’re not - you know. We’re not  _ together _ or whatever. But she’s my best friend and I wouldn’t have made it through losing you without her.”

“She’s your best friend?” Clarke asks, sharp. As if there’s something about that statement that hurts, as if she’s firmly stuck on those particular words rather than the part where he admitted he nearly lost it when he thought Clarke was dead.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I guess. She’s not - it’s not like -”

At that exact moment, of course, Madi wakes up. Bellamy is beginning to suspect that it will always be the way - that this daughter of Clarke’s will be permanently coming between them, now.

Huh. He wonders whether that’s how she feels about Echo.

No. It’s silly. They don’t even compare. He is grateful for Echo’s strength and support, but it’s not the same as having a  _ child _ , is it?

He never gets to say any of this, of course. He never gets to tell Clarke exactly how his friendship with Echo works, that it is nothing to the connection he has always felt with Clarke herself. He never gets to continue the conversation  _ at all _ , because Madi needs her mother now.

And because in the morning they find his sister replaced by a monster.

…….

He does his best, takes what chances he can. He finds himself walking next to Clarke through a desert two days later and tries his hardest to start that conversation anew.

“I’ve been thinking - you never seemed very surprised to see us come back from space the other day.” He offers, carefully light. He hopes this might be an opportunity to ease into a conversation about the time apart, about everything that has changed as well as those precious few things that remain the same.

“I wasn’t surprised. I knew you were alive. I -”

It’s not Madi who interrupts, this time. It’s Miller, telling them firmly and without taking no for an answer that Blodreina will see them now.

Bellamy hates it. He hates everything about this return to Earth. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to return to his old sister and a fresh start, both at once. Not the same old tired tribalism and a stranger wearing his sister’s face.

But he thinks the strangeness in Clarke is the hardest thing of all. It is harder in some ways to have her alive and changed than to be mourning her - he’d grown used to mourning her, however grim it was. He just doesn’t know what to do in this situation. Should he throw caution to the wind and cry out to her that he wants her for a soulmate, that he’d love nothing more than to welcome her back into his life, daughter and all?

Probably not. There seems to be a war on. This is probably not the time or place for declarations of love.

They go to see his sister. They leave her tent again, little better off than they were before. Bellamy watches as Clarke turns to stare at the horizon, frowning hard.

“What is it?” He asks her softly.

“Nothing. Don’t worry.” She says, dismissive. “Hey - did you hear from Echo? You must be missing her.”

He feels a frown knit his brows. He  _ is _ missing her, yes. But he doesn’t much care for the tone Clarke said that in.

“Yeah. I guess I am - I’ve got used to having her around. But I don’t exactly feel like my soul has been torn in two.” He says flippantly.

Well, he tries to say it flippantly. He fails, watches his joke fall hopelessly flat on the sand before his very eyes. It’s a  _ stupid _ joke. Having his soul torn in two with grief is no laughing matter.

He should know, because he’s been there.

…….

It gets worse.

He wouldn’t have believed it possible, but it happens. It gets worse than merely Clarke being distant and his sister being a stranger, morphs into Clarke leaving him in Polis while his sister leads her people to slaughter - and tries to have him fight to the death, along the way.

He supposes that answers his unasked question, doesn’t it? Soulmates don’t leave soulmates to die.

…….

He’s just about resolved that he will have to learn how to move on from Clarke -  _ again _ \- when Madi throws a spanner in the works. When she stands by his side at the door of the Eligius transport ship, this girl he instinctively resents, somehow, and is still somewhat jealous of when he finds himself blaming her for the breakdown in his relationship with Clarke, and listens to her turn his world upside down.

“Do you have any idea how much she cares about you?” Madi asks.

Crap. She must have caught him sneaking a glance at Clarke. He still cannot help himself on that front, it seems.

“So much she left me to die.” He says, short.

She shakes her head, urgent. “When you were in space she called you every day on the radio.  _ Every day _ . Even though you couldn’t reply.”

He gulps. That’s - that’s  _ news _ .

“She knew I was alive?” He asks. He figured out as much from one of those failed conversations with Clarke herself, but never understood how the hell she was so sure.

“Yeah. Of course she did. She could still see the colours.” Madi says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The colours.

_ She could still see the colours _ .

Bellamy could swear his heart stops beating. The world freezes around him, perfectly motionless. Everything else falls away - the movement, the waiting, the urgent frantic noise.

There is just that sentence, echoing over and over and over in his mind.

_ She could still see the colours _ .

As if she knew for certain sure that he was her soulmate. As if it was so obvious, to her mind, that she didn’t even  _ question _ it - not like him, who spent all those years presuming they were not supposed to be together rather than seriously considering the possibility that she could have survived.

He swallows, and it hurts.

She kept the faith. She believed in him, even while he gave up on her. She knew he was the one for her.

She just  _ knew _ .

And how did he repay her loyalty? By trying to move on. By doubting their connection. By returning to Earth with a new family and a new best friend, and not trying hard enough to convince her that it is a different kind of friendship, damn it. By being jealous of her daughter in the most ridiculous way, by being put off by a little haircut and a few slight changes to her manner and priorities.

He’s the worst soulmate in the whole history of soulmates, he decides.

“Bellamy?” Madi prompts him softly.

That’s it. The moment breaks. The world starts moving again, sirens blaring, his injured friends stumbling from the trees.

He barely hears the countdown. All he can think is  _ Clarke _ .

…….

He starts small with the enormous task of fixing his relationship with Clarke. He starts small because that feels safe and less intimidating, in part. But mostly he starts small because he doesn’t feel like he has a  _ right _ to start big. He feels phenomenally guilty for giving up on Clarke, for resenting the changes in her, and simply for not seeing the truth until Madi said what she said. What was it he thought, as a child? That he would simply  _ know _ his soulmate, just as Clarke held firm to her knowledge that he was hers?

So much for that. He’s not sure he even deserves to have a soulmate.

He tries to steer them steadily back towards friendship, at least. He hugs her in their grief, keeps an eye on her as best he can while they explore the new planet. He even volunteers to go get Madi when someone needs to, and he hopes that’s a good idea. He hopes that’s a step on the way to showing that he wants to coexist with Madi in Clarke’s life, rather than always feel threatened by the fact he is no longer her priority.

The miracle of it? Clarke seems to get the idea. She seems to want to meet him halfway - or perhaps even more. She’s there, smiling at him, thanking him, still trying to protect him.

He loves her so much it’s just pathetic, by this point. And one of these days - just as soon as things are back on an even keel between them - he plans to tell her that.

He’s not surprised she approaches him while their new hosts are making their lanterns. This day is to do with making amends, apparently. So he’s thinking he really ought to go see Clarke just as soon as he can prepare some words - but then she beats him to it.

“Apparently the lanterns float away, taking your sins with them.” She tells him.

“If only it were that easy.” He owes her a thousand lanterns, if it is. Do they have that many to spare, he wonders?

“Maybe it is.” She swallows loudly. “I wrote down leaving you in Polis.” 

“Clarke, stop. You don't need to do this.” Shouldn’t it be the other way round?

“What I did, leaving you like that. I'm so sorry Bellamy .”

“It's OK.” He tells her, because it is. It’s nothing compared to what he did, leaving her to burn and then giving up on her. “I know what it's like to risk everything for one person. I know Madi's your family.”

“You're my family too.” She tells him tearfully. “I lost sight of that. I’m sorry - I was so confused. You have a new family now and I - I didn’t know how I could fit in with that. But I think I get it now. Echo’s your best friend, and that’s fine. You can still be my best friend - I don’t need to be yours. Friendship isn’t limited like that.”

He laughs. He actually  _ laughs _ , tearful and exhausted all at once. This is  _ ridiculous _ . He cannot believe he didn’t see it sooner - perhaps he just needed that nudge from Madi to understand that Clarke really does care about him. But his soulmate is  _ jealous _ that he has a new best friend. It’s totally absurd - but he supposes he had better find a more gentle way to tell her that.

“Clarke. Echo didn’t  _ replace _ you. How could she? You were the first person to show me I could be more than my sister’s keeper. You taught me I could be a good guy, even when I couldn’t see it myself. You’re - you’re  _ you _ .” He says, because he’s not quite ready to say the word  _ soulmate _ . Not here and now, not like this. “I became really close friends with Echo in space because she was there and because she knows what it’s like to lose someone you really care about. I didn’t realise this would get messy.” He says with a strained chuckle. “I thought you’d be happy to see we’d hit it off. I remember thinking that so often in space -  _ I wish Clarke could see us now _ .”

“You’re saying you could have two best friends?” She asks, quieter and more nervous than he is used to hearing her speak.

“I’m saying I have you, and I have her. There’s no sense even comparing the two of you. I didn’t realise this was bothering you.” He dares to admit. This seems to be verging on a conversation which is actually about their relationship, and that feels rather frightening.

“It’s stupid.” Clarke says at once, evidently embarrassed. “I just - I felt like you didn’t need me any more.”

He hugs her for that. What else can he do? He closes his arms tight around her. He holds her close and wonders whether, perhaps, if he closes his eyes the world might stop and he could never let go.

“I’ll always need you.” He whispers against her hair.

She snuffles a little - a tearful laugh, he thinks. She hugs him tighter still, snuggles her face against his neck.

He’ll always need her. It’s not just colour she brings to his world, but light and life and love.

…….

It’s not until that night that Bellamy realises his mistake.

He thought things were going really well, damn it. He thought he and Clarke were on the same page, that he had made it clear how much he cares about her - and that he cares in a rather different way from the way he cares about his genuinely platonic friend.

But then he sees Clarke dancing, flicking her hair and smiling at some handsome stranger, and he realises his mistake.

He plays their earlier conversation back in his mind.  _ Best friends _ .  _ Family _ .  _ I’ll always need you _ .

She’s got the wrong end of the stick, hasn’t she? He’s driven his soulmate into someone else’s arms because she thinks he’s trying to tell her they’re just friends.

How does he keep getting this so thoroughly wrong? He could swear he thought it would be easier, when he was a kid. That having a soulmate would be a straightforwardly beautiful thing, without so many disasters along the way. Maybe he can understand what Echo was getting at, all those times she told him he didn’t want a soulmate really.

He understands, and yet still he disagrees.

He’ll ask Clarke to dance after she’s finished this song with her current partner. That’s what he decides. He’ll show her he can act romantic with her, too, and maybe even dare to say the magic word at long last.

Echo disagrees.

“Go interrupt them.” She urges him, staring him down. "Go tell her how pretty she looks in that dress. What colour is it? A dark purple or blue or something?"

He gulps. Echo can't see the colours. He still forgets that frequently, even though he's lived with her for years. Every time she asks a question like that it hits him right in the chest. To think that might have been his fate, if only Clarke hadn't managed to sprint back to the lab before the death wave.

He shakes his head to clear it, tries to address the point at hand. “It's blue."

"Ah. A good colour."

A beat of silence.

"Go on, then." Echo prompts him.

Another shake of his head. "I can't interrupt. I don’t want to look rude or petty. She’s already seen me jealous too often.”

“You wouldn’t look  _ petty _ . You’d look  _ lovestruck _ .”

He considers it for a moment. He stares across the dancefloor at Clarke. She looks  _ stunning _ \- but she also looks happy, and that worries him a little. That makes him hesitate. Has he made such a mess of things that she’s honestly happier with someone else?

No. Echo’s probably right. He should stop wasting time - he doesn’t want to lose Clarke again.

He’s too late. By the time he starts moving, Clarke and her new friend have already left.

…….

Bellamy tries not to worry too much about Clarke in the hours that follow. He doesn’t stay at the party, because there’s simply no point now. But he doesn’t try to chase her and her hookup, either. That certainly would look petty and jealous and unattractive - he’s sure of it.

He’s actually not that concerned. She’ll sleep with that guy once, maybe, but Bellamy doesn’t think she’ll settle into some long term relationship with a stranger. As long as Bellamy keeps working at fixing their friendship - and does better at showing her he wants  _ more _ than a friendship - then this evening shouldn’t be more than another stumbling block along the road. They have both slept with plenty of other people before now and loved each other all the same.

But the following morning, he abruptly becomes very worried indeed. She’s not acting right. She’s not acting  _ Clarke _ .

That’s because she isn’t Clarke, any more. She is a stranger who has Clarke trapped inside her head. That’s why he can still see the colours - because Clarke is still inside there, still clinging on, just like when she survived on Earth without him. She’s his soulmate, and she’s alive, and he needs to have faith in that - to keep faith like he didn’t the last time round.

And so it is that the most frantic rescue mission of his life begins.

…….

Bellamy has done some desperate things in his time. He has hidden a sister beneath the floor, then followed that sister to Earth and paid a criminal price for his passage. He has posed as an enemy soldier, then become the enemy within, then fled flames to space and left his soulmate barely clinging to life behind him.

This is the most desperate of the lot, to be clear. He’s gone on the run with a stranger wearing his soulmate’s body, dropped everything and fled in the hope of getting Clarke back.

He just can’t lose her. Not now. Not when they were so damn close to happiness.

If only he’d said things a little differently, that day with the lanterns. If only he’d switched  _ I’ll always need you _ for  _ I’ll always love you _ , or offered her a kiss along with that hug.

Too late, now. All he can do is trust Gabriel and pray.

It doesn’t work.

He knows before Gabriel says it. He knows it because the colours are already fading.

He wants to laugh. In this horrific moment, he wants to burst into hysterical laughter, the emotion of the moment getting too much for him.  _ Of course _ the colours are fading. This is the soulmate’s curse, isn’t it? All these years fighting doubts, and this is how it ends. He gets his final confirmation that they were meant to be together just as she’s leaving him forever.

No. This is not how it ends.

He refuses to allow it. He wants to see the blue of her eyes again, damn it. He wants to sit by her side and watch the Sanctum suns set, wants to grow old with her and watch her hair fade out to grey as it should - through age, not death.

Yes. This is not how it ends.

He reaches out with clumsy hands, starts work on some desperate chest compressions. He doesn’t know if he’s doing this right. He doesn’t  _ think _ he’s doing it right, because the colours are fading fast. But he has to keep trying, damn it. He has to keep trying because he simply cannot give up on her now - not when he has given up on her too soon before.

He glances to Clarke’s face, frantic. Her lips aren’t pink any more. Why aren’t her lips pink? Is that it? Is she truly gone?

He looks around the tent in a panic. Wasn’t that green, before? It’s only grey now.

“She’s gone, Bell.”

That’s his sister. That’s Octavia, sad and gentle, laying a hand on his arm. He turns to look at her, and it frightens him. All the colour has leached from her eyes. She looks  _ ghostly _ , somehow. Is this what it will be like, to live without Clarke? To feel haunted every day of the rest of his life?

He can’t let that happen.

He redoubles his attempts to get her heart beating, breathes into her mouth, too. He’s weeping, loud ugly sobs that interrupt his rhythm and make his actions even more futile, he fears.

But he just can’t let Clarke go.

“Come on, Clarke. Come on.” He gasps through a sob, tries again. “I need you. Remember that? I’ll always need you. I - I  _ love _ you.”

The world looks funny around him. Is it just the tears blurring his eyes, or is that the slightest hint of colour?

He takes that hope and clings to it with both hands.

“Clarke. Come on. You can’t give up on me now. You  _ never  _ give up on me. Fight it.”

She does. She’s fighting. He can tell, because there’s the slightest pink tinge to her lips.

He tries another breath into her mouth, pumps at her chest ever harder. Another breath, then -

Then she’s breathing. She’s gasping, loud and urgent and  _ alive _ , as the colour returns to his world in a dizzying rush. He stumbles backwards, shocked, blinking.

Life looks  _ beautiful _ .

He reaches for her, hugs her instinctively against his chest. He’s trying to be gentle, yes, but he needs to touch her, needs to reassure himself that she’s alive.

She hisses. “Think you broke a rib.” She gasps.

Oh. Crap. That wasn’t part of the plan. He sets her slowly down again, mumbling frantic apologies.

To his surprise, she laughs a breathy laugh. “It’s OK. You saved my life. I’ll take the broken rib.”

“I really am sorry. I didn’t -”

“Broken ribs are very common in CPR.” She tells him, tone level.

He shakes his head, chuckling from sheer relief, and from affection, too. Typical Clarke. He just confessed his love whilst coaxing her back from the brink of death, and she wants to have a practical conversation about medical mishaps.

He thinks she might be deliberately changing the subject, in fact.

He summons his courage. “It’s good to have the colours back.” He says, carefully light. “You really scared me there. Pretty frightening watching them fade out then flood back in again.”

“The colours?” She asks faintly.

“Yeah. The  _ soulmate  _ colours.” He says firmly.

She’s staring at him, hard, as if trying to figure out a puzzle to which she does not have all the pieces.

“I didn’t think I was.” She says at last. “I thought - I don’t know. It can be one-sided, right?”

“Well - you are.” He says simply.

“You too.” She tells him at once. “I mean - I’m sure you are, but I’d rather you didn’t go getting yourself killed to test it.”

“Great. Good.”

He can feel a smile splitting his face, despite the less than ideal circumstances. He didn’t plan for it to be like this, he seems to remember. He meant for them to slowly rekindle their friendship while enjoying a peaceful new life in Sanctum, growing gradually closer and then falling into one another’s arms.

So much for that. When has anything ever gone to plan in his life?

He glances around him. Octavia and Gabriel seem to have excused themselves. Good. He crouches a little lower over Clarke’s bed, strokes her face and prepares for a most particular conversation.

“I love you.” He tells her. “Don’t know if you heard me the first time.”

“I love you too. And - kind of. I’ll explain it all another time.”

“Another time? Why not now?”

“Because I really want you to stop talking and kiss me.” She admits, grinning a tentative grin.

He chuckles nervously. “Are you sure? With the broken rib?”

“Bellamy. It’s a broken rib, not a broken jaw. I can deal with a little kiss.” She tells him, no nonsense, pragmatic as ever.

He smiles even wider, somehow. He doesn’t know how he manages it. But there’s something awfully fitting, he thinks, about the way she has brought them full circle with that comment. It makes him feel like a confused young guy trying not to do what she tells him at the dropship - and he likes it.

He kisses her. Nothing big or intense or too eager. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He keeps it soft, gentle, loving. He wants to show her how precious she is to him, how much he treasures this moment. But he wants, too, to make this just inquisitive enough to show her that there are plenty more good things to come when her rib is healed and they have some kind of peace.

He pulls away at last - not far, just back from her lips, and rests his forehead on hers instead.

“Thank you.” He tells her simply.

“You don’t have to thank me every time we kiss.” She says pertly.

He laughs against her lips. “Not that. Thank you for  _ everything _ . Thank you for making my world a brighter place.”

She smiles into a kiss. “You, too. Thank you for making me feel human and valued and  _ wanted _ whenever I start worrying that I’m just the commander of death and everyone would be better off without me.”

“It’s nothing. I find it pretty easy to keep loving you no matter what.” He tells her, because really that’s the truth. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

After all, he always did want a soulmate.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
